


all roads they lead me here

by teesandjays



Category: Gallagher Girls Series - Ally Carter
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teesandjays/pseuds/teesandjays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one where Abby hates England even though she really, really doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all roads they lead me here

**Author's Note:**

> i would apologize about this but i'm never sorry about abby/townsend fluff so.

Abby hates England.

No, okay that’s a lie she doesn’t hate England because it’s a lovely place despite its shitty weather, all timeless architecture and countrysides with sprawling fields that seem to go on for miles, like they're trying to chase after the horizon. It’s one of those places that whispers secrets to you as you pass down its streets, tells you stories about its life that maybe you don’t understand but you can feel in essence anyway because it's _everywhere -_ in the air that you breathe, under each step on the always slightly wet pavements, hiding in the walls of its buildings just waiting to tell you its history.

So no she doesn’t hate England, in fact she actually really loves England.

She just hates what being there essentially means. And as she steps onto the landing on the fifth floor of an apartment building just on the outskirts of London, that tiny clenching feeling in her gut appears because she doesn’t want to want to be here.

But here she is anyway, because despite all the places she’s been and all the people she’s met, there’s only two places in the world she actually feels safe. One is in an unassuming little house stuck right in suburbs in Washington, where the only family she has left lives. And the other is here – in a six floor apartment where there’s no elevator service and drafty staircases with floors that squeak when you wear sneakers and a leak on the ground floor right above the entrance that no one’s ever bothered to fix.

Abby makes her way down the hall until she’s standing outside a door labeled 31C where the paint’s starting to chip.

She knocks twice and leans against the wall, adjusting her duffle on her shoulder until it’s sitting comfortably. She’s still fiddling with the strap when the door opens and her hand freezes before she looks up to meet a pair of amused blue eyes.

“Well,” he starts and she’s already resisting the urge to roll her eyes and punch him in the throat, “I thought you were my Chinese, but this sight is just as good.”

“I resent being placed on the same level as some second-rate takeout,” she says, raising an eyebrow when he doesn’t move from the doorway to let her in.

“Don’t we all,” he responds, his lips curling upwards as she shakes her head at him.

“Oh, where are my manners –”

“Ran away with your sense of humour when you were born,” she cuts in, sending him a sweet smile when he levels an unamused look at her.

“How I’ve missed your particular brand of wit, Abigail,” he says in a flat tone but the brightness in his eyes gives him away. He grabs her bag off her shoulder to sling it over his before turning and retreating back into his apartment. She trails after him making sure to lock the door when it closes behind her. She heads to the kitchen as he ambles off towards the bedroom, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and looking around for the bag of coffee that’s she knows existed the last time she was here. She knows Townsend prefers tea over coffee – honestly, he’s such a clichéd Brit sometimes it’s ridiculous – and the chances of him using out her coffee is slim to none.

But by the time she’s looked through all the cupboards a pout’s already formed on Abby’s face from the distinct lack of caffeine and she really doesn’t want to settle for tea, which only serves to make her warm and fuzzy and send her to sleep in an instant.

“Seems like someone has no trouble making themselves at home,” Townsend comments, coming to stand next to her. His kitchen’s ridiculously small – literally there’s only enough room to fit about four people, and between the two of them, their personalities already take up three-quarters of the space. But it’s also cozy and warm, the walls painted a pale yellow – she has great taste in paint don’t let anyone tell you otherwise – which goes nicely with the wooden cupboards.

Between the the two of them he’s the only one that cooks - Cameron blood is strong where poor kitchen skills are involved, just take her sister for example - and for some reason he actually enjoys it. If it’s only thing she loves about being here, it's that there’s never a lack of food unlike her own apartment back across the ocean where her empty take-out boxes scattered around the place are likely starting to breed a new species of mold.

But at least she has coffee there which is basically all that matters at the end of the day. 

“My coffee’s gone,” she says and she’s not whining Christ, she’s just really upset because she needs caffeine in her system after a flight the same way a chain smoker needs a cigarette lit between their lips before they’ve even really opened their eyes first thing in the morning.

“Mmm, I think Abe finished it off last time he visited,” he says already putting the kettle and grabbing two tea bags.

“Traitor.” And okay maybe there’s a lot more accusation in there than need be, but seriously, it’s _coffee_ , it’s _her_ coffee - she would know she put it there herself - and it’s just gone. He lets out a soft little laugh, slipping in behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist while he ducks his head down into the crook of her neck.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers pressing a kiss behind her ear. She rolls her eyes, but leans into the familiar embrace anyway.

“You better,” she responds seriously, biting her lip when she feels him smile into her neck.

“And I expect a steaming cup when I wake up tomorrow morning, just so you know.”

“Done and done,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Okay so yes, she doesn’t hate England. And maybe she doesn’t really hate what being there mean, no – she just hates being away from it.


End file.
